


Bronte x Emery Crack Fic

by Hopelessly_Queer



Series: Bronte/Emery Fics. Don't Judge Me [1]
Category: Keeper of the Lost Cities Series - Shannon Messenger
Genre: Crack Fic, Crack Relationships, Fluff and Crack, I WILL convert auriel into liking Emery, I love Emery and it shows, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, No beta we die like Kenric, Out of Character, is this how people on AO3 use tags, my attempt at adding more wholesome bronte content, or at least more wholesome than the Pyren Bros Au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24036451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopelessly_Queer/pseuds/Hopelessly_Queer
Summary: Emery and Bronte have a picnic. Emery has a gay panic. Stuff happens. Woo!
Relationships: Councillor Bronte/Councillor Emery (Keeper of the Lost Cities)
Series: Bronte/Emery Fics. Don't Judge Me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1848679
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21





	Bronte x Emery Crack Fic

**Author's Note:**

> When I started this I knew it was going to be a crack fic and thus I altered my writing style to be far more over-the-top and tropey. But as I wrote, I began to notice that it resembled an unironically written fic. Now, this may be due to the fact that this is my first crack fic or maybe I am unable to stop taking things so seriously. Whatever the case, this fic may actually convert dome people into a Bronte/Emery shipper. And if it does, that will be my greatest achievement. Not that there was a high bar.

Flower petals lay sprawled across the blanket Bronte sat on. He looked dazzling in Emery’s opinion. He always did. Even when his face was marked with that ever-present scowl. Emery had made it his goal to replace his scowl with a smile today.  
Bronte met Emery’s eyes and Emery was glad for his dark skin which kept his blush from being too visible. He looked down, suddenly very interested in the grass.  
“So. . .” Bronte started.  
Emery figured that he was supposed to speak, but remained quiet, out of fear of stuttering.  
“The flowers are pretty,” Bronte finally said.  
Not as pretty as you, Emery thought. He didn’t say it though. He coughed then spoke, “yeah, Oralie helped me find them.” He couldn’t make himself look into Bronte’s eyes. His beautiful, blue eyes. They were like a neverending sea that Emery could get lost in far more easily than he liked.  
Emery gulped and finally decided to move towards the picnic blanket. He placed the basket he clutched onto the ground and opened it. He pulled out the various dishes he had cooked, placing them on the blanket.  
He finally looked up at Bronte —at his nose, still, not his eyes—, gripping the fruit in his hand. He slowly moved it towards the other elf. “Um, Apple?”  
That is an apple.”  
They sat in silence for a moment.  
Emery pushed the apple closer to Bronte.  
"Oh, you want me to eat the apple."  
Emery nodded, maybe a bit more enthusiastically than necessary.  
Bronte gave him a look, one that seemed to reflect pity, and took the apple. Emery mentally kicked himself. Why was he acting so flustered? He knew of course, but admitting it made him seem dumb. It was because of Bronte; beautiful, hardworking Bronte.  
And Bronte was so close. Emery wanted to reach out and pull him into a kiss. But he couldn't. There was no way Bronte liked him. He would just push Emery away and then Emery would have to dig himself a hole and stay there for the rest of eternity.  
Emery let out a sigh, mostly against his will.  
Bronte shot him an inquisitive look.  
"I'm. . . Tired?" Emery said, somewhat unconvincingly, the pitch of his voice rising at the last syllable and revealing his lie. He gave Bronte an attempt of a smile.  
The corner of Bronte's lip twitched upwards into an almost smile, but it disappeared as soon as it came.  
Emery longed for a real smile to appear on Bronte's face, even if it were for only a second. He bit his lip and looked down. "I made sauce(1)."  
"Just sauce?"  
"Yeah, I made it in a saucepan. For sauce."  
Bronte opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it and took a bite of the apple.  
Emery noticed a small scar left on his left cheek. One that would likely only be noticeable if you were looking for it. But it did make him wonder: if there were so many visible scars, what of those in Bronte's mind. The ones he must have battled alone for so long.  
Bronte coughed.  
Emery flinched and begrudgingly met his eyes.  
"You were staring at me."  
"I was- I was wondering if you liked the sauce. Yeah, that was it," Emery feigned confidence.  
"I haven't tried it yet," Bronte replied and his storm blue eyes seemed to gaze right into Emery's soul and Emery had to resist the urge to profess his love right then and there. But that would do neither of them any good. There was no way the feelings were reciprocal. It was Bronte he was thinking about. Someone who was, he knew with certainty, very straight.  
But still, there was that small voice in his head. What if he isn't? What if he feels the same? It was a dumb thought, of course. As hopeless as it was fleeting.  
There were, of course, some times in which he had thought Bronte had suspected his feelings. The times when Emery let his gaze linger on Bronte for too long and their eyes met; and the times when Emery stuttered in their conversations and a smirk would appear on Bronte's face.  
Then following the notion would come mortification. If Bronte knew; if he knew, Emery would most certainly die. Although, asking Bronte to join him in a picnic didn't exactly help keep his feelings secret. Neither did the flower petals.  
"Do you want to try it?" Emery held up the jar of sauce.  
Bronte nodded hesitantly and took the jar from Emery.  
No one spoke for a while after that. Emery bit down on mallowmelt Bronte awkwardly ate the sauce until he could bear the silence no more. Just when Emery was about to ask if he liked the sauce, Bronte addressed him, "is this a date?"  
Emery nearly choked on his mallowmelt. "I-. What? I mean- uh."  
Bronte just watched Emery with a singular eyebrow raised.  
". . . No?" Emery said rather unconvincingly. He attempted to redirect the conversation. "What do you think?"  
Bronte smirked. Not a smile, but closer to one than his usual expression. "It can be."  
Emery sucked in a breath and froze. It seemed he had lost the ability to form words.  
Then, Bronte laughed. He laughed. Emery couldn't do anything but stare in shock because he had made Bronte, the elf that was always serious and never cracked so much as a smile, laugh. He felt a surge of pride at this, despite Bronte laughing at him and not with.  
Emery swallowed. "So. . . You're joking, right?"  
Bronte's face went serious again. "No. I'm not"  
His look made Emery's heart skip a beat. "I-, u-uh." He cleared his throat and gave a small nod. "Cool(2)."  
The smirk reappeared. Bronte's eyes flicked down to Emery's lips and Emery's heart did that fluttery thing it always did around Bronte.  
Without realizing it, Emery inched slightly closer to Bronte. At that moment the Earth, the planets, and the stars all seemed to revolve around Bronte. They sat there, staring into each other's eyes until Emery leaned further and Bronte brought his own face closer. Emery could feel his breath and their noses were almost touching.  
Finally, Emery closed the gap, kissing Bronte. And as if he had been waiting, Bronte returned it. The fluttery feeling in his chest increased. Bronte's lips were soft; softer than he could've imagined.  
Bronte's hands traced up Emery's arm and tangled with his hair. Emery's hand cupped Bronte's cheek and traced over the scar(3). Emery melted into the kiss.  
If this was the last good thing that happened to him, Emery would've been fine with that. The kiss was far more perfect than he could've ever imagined(4).  
And when he pulled back, his heart was racing so incredibly fast. He met Bronte’s eyes. And there was a smile on Bronte's face. A real smile. One that made Emery's heart melt(5). Apparently Bronte wasn’t straight.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. This was a reference to something that happened in an rp. Please ignore the stupidity of it if you aren't Soph or Auriel.  
> 2\. great going, my guy. very cool.  
> 3\. Auriel came up with the scar for Pyren Bros and I just ran with it  
> 4\. and he definitely imagined  
> 5\. it was genuinely a struggle to not write "their tongues warred for dominance."


End file.
